The Moon City underground train system is as lively as ever, a stream of commuters surging through the fluorescent-lit corridors. You dodge the crowd best you can, ducking past passengers and sidestepping suitcases. Though this bustle is familiar, it feels different. The energy in the air? Or maybe the prickle of unease down your spine.

You arrive at the platform 10 minutes early, strange, since you’re usually barely on time. Shrugging, you settle onto a worn, metal bench by wall. Trying to ignore the sensation, you turn to the cracked tiles lining the wall behind you. You start counting the breaks in them, an idle way to pass the time. Six cracks on that one…six on the next... It’s almost as if each tile has the exact same number of cracks. Can't be coincidence.

Six… six… si… Seven? As you reach out to brush the tile, it gives under your touch, sinking into the wall. Before you can react, the bench jerks beneath you, yanking you off balance, and hurls you through a hidden doorway. You brace for impact, expecting to hit the opposite wall—instead, you’re plunged into darkness.

It’s freezing in the room—chill prickles your skin. Faint lights flicker in the distance, casting ghostly glimmers across the space. There’s a damp smell, unlike the stale air of the station. As your eyes adjust, you notice the shelves lining the walls, each filled with crystals that shimmer faintly, catching scant light. Strange symbols—runes?—scrawled onto sheets hanging from the ceiling pipes, which groan occasionally, dripping onto the floor.

The only light you have is your phone’s flashlight, which you flick on, expecting to see something in the shadows. Instead, the beam lands on an old folding table, draped with a threadbare cloth, laid with intricate tarot cards. The air is thick with a strange anticipation.

Suddenly, a booming voice from the shadows: "Hello there! Welcome to my little corner of town!" The voice is tinged with a hint of mischief, and it echoes through the dark room, making the light seem to pulse with each word.